


Things My Heart Used to Know

by Snacky



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Anastasia Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/M, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon as Anastasia because why not?, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Prompt Fic, R plus L equals J
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:07:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7035025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snacky/pseuds/Snacky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the Targaryens were the Romanovs, and Jon was Anastasia?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things My Heart Used to Know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [riahchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riahchan/gifts).



> Written for the prompt: Jon x Sansa - recast into another fandom that you like.

Years ago, when she was still just a little girl, Sansa's parents had taken her and her brother Robb south to King's Landing, for a grand celebration King Aerys held for his Hand Jon Arryn, upon the birth of his long-awaited son.

The Starks were kin to all involved — her father's sister married to the crown prince, Jon Arryn his foster father, and Lysa Arryn, her mother's sister — so it was a given that the Starks would attend, despite it being winter, and the travel being hard. Still, despite the snow on the ground, winter in the south was much milder than a true Northern winter, and once they were south of the Trident, the travel was easier, as they made their way to King's Landing, with what seemed like half the Seven Kingdoms on the road along with them.

Sansa doesn't remember much of the journey, beyond bickering with Robb out of boredom. What she does remember:

— the Red Keep looking like a fairytale palace, all lit up with fairy lights that twinkled like the stars in the cold night sky

— greeting her tiny cousin Robert, who looked so frail and small in Aunt Lysa's arms, not like her own little baby brother Bran, hail and hearty from the day he was born

— meeting the Royal Family in their audience chamber: King Aerys, terrifying with his unkempt beard and wild eyes; Queen Rhaella whose smile was kind despite her somber bearing; the tall, handsome Prince Rhaegar and his two beautiful wives, Princess Elia of Dorne, and Princess Lyana, Sansa's own aunt

— the beauty of the Red Keep, decorated for the celebration and the winter holidays, and all the grand people who had come to attend the balls and the feasts and the fetes, and the naming ceremony of little Robert

Mostly Sansa remembers the young Targaryen princes and princesses, her and Robb's playmates during those weeks spent in King's Landing. Viserys and Daenerys, tall and blond like their brother and their parent; Rhaenys, a dark haired beauty like her mother; Aegon, who looked like his father in miniature; and of course, her cousin Jon, who looked nothing like the rest of the Targaryens, and everything like the Starks of the North.

She remembers running through the long corridors of the Red Keep, racing the others to the celebrations; she remembers sitting on Rhaenys' bed and playing with her cat, as the princess tried on gown after gown. She remembers going with Dany and Viserys deep into the heart of the Red Keep, as they showed her all the dragon skulls and told her tales of the men and women who rode them; she remembers watching Robb and Jon and Aegon spar, pretending they were heroes of old.

She remembers sitting with Jon at one of the balls, as the others danced around the floor, taking his hand and convincing him to dance with her, despite his protestations. She remembers his shy smile as he snuck her lemon cakes after he learned they were her favorites. She remembers riding with him and Dany through the Kingswood, laughing as they chased each other through the snowy woods, their faces pink from the cold and their hair streaming behind them.

That trip to King's Landing shines like a dream in her memory — not for the fun she'd had, but because it was the last time she'd seen any of the Targaryens alive. 

When it was time for the Starks to leave, her father had made Aunt Lyanna promise to bring Jon and visit them in the North soon. It never happened. 

Soon after they departed for the North, Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister led the people of Westeros in the Winter Revolution. Sansa's father had ordered the borders to the North sealed, and they were all safe at home, but news coming out of the South was terrible. Refugees came north, seeking asylum and safety from the bloodshed and mayhem in King's Landing. 

Sansa's parents were frantic, doing their best to get word of, and help to, their family members, but to no avail. When it was finally over, Robert Baratheon sat the Iron Throne, and all of the Targaryens had disappeared.

No one would ever say where they had gone, or what had happened, officially, but the unofficial word out of King's Landing was that the Targaryens had all been killed. "Slaughtered" was the term most often used. Her parents demanded the bones of their kin, but nothing came of it.

Sansa grew up remembering that trip to King's Landing, the young princes and princesses, and she wept over their terrible end. From time to time there would be rumors that one of the children survived, smuggled away in safety, but they were just that — rumors. No lost prince or princess ever turned up, and while the Targaryens were not forgotten, people stopped speaking of them, for King Robert was nearly as mad as King Aerys, especially where Targaryens were concerned.

**

So it's the last thing Sansa ever imagined, ten years later while she's on her grand tour of Essos. Lady Brienne and Lord Jaime, her chaperones, are distracted with bickering, and Sansa finds herself wandering the market square in Lys, picking up trinkets and nibbling on lemon cakes, when a young man approaches her.

He's tall, as tall as she, and his face is her father's, although he's dressed in Lysene fashion, in silken robes, his long dark hair pulled back in a messy braid. Sansa's in shock as his grey eyes lock on hers, and he stares at her like he's seen a ghost.

Which, truly, is what she's seeing. This can't be happening.

There's scars on his face, and he's nothing like the little boy in her memory, but Sansa knows who he is. He's her cousin, the lost prince. He's survived somehow, impossibly, and he's standing in front of her right now.

"Jon?" she whispers, as the young man lifts his hand, taking a lock of her red hair between his fingers, and rubbing his thumb over it. 

"I know you," he says, his voice hushed and strained. "I remember your hair, your face. Red as fire, and eyes blue like the sea."

The look on his face and his words have Sansa wondering if maybe she is seeing a ghost, but his touch is firm, and when she lays her hand on his arm, she can feel the solid muscle and the warmth of his skin beneath the silk.

She glances up at his face, and there's a shy smile spreading over it, a smile that lives in her memories, a smile she would know anywhere. "Sansa," he says. "Have you come for me at last?"


End file.
